


Sex Magic

by exyking



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Size Kink, due to circumstances, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25858120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exyking/pseuds/exyking
Summary: “Fucking sex magic,” he snarled, as he toed off his boots. “Why does it have to be fucking sex magic.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 581





	Sex Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Just another weird little Drabble as I try to get back into my grove. Not very well edited, but enjoy!

* * *

“Of course you had to fuck the incubus.”

Jaskier, legs splayed obscenely wide, wrists and ankles tied above his head to the bedpost, slick dripping from his freshly plowed hole, had the gall to look at least a little ashamed. 

Geralt scowled. 

“In my defense, it wasn’t exactly my idea?” Jaskier tried. 

The plan had been a simple sting operation. Jaskier would act as bait, luring the incubus into the trap, which Geralt would promptly spring by smiting the beast by some violent means. Except, the incubus had been smart, and had lured Jaskier to his own room, not the one where the trap lay, waiting to be sprung. By the time Geralt had realised something was wrong, Jaskier had already been enthralled and tied to the creature's bed, ready to be mounted. It had been a pleasurable experience, until the abrupt demise of the creature had severed the thrall, leaving Jaskier disorientated and uncomfortably aroused.

An arousal that hadn’t abated, despite recent events.

Geralt kicked the decapitated carcas of the still erect incubus out of his way, and made towards one Jaskier, drawing a dagger from…  _ somewhere.  _

Before Geralt could start to free him, a wave of arousal so intense it literally knocked the breath out of him, bowled through Jaskier like a hurricane. He whined,  _ whined,  _ and struggled against his bonds, trying to thrust his hips back against nothing. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Geralt growled. 

“Shit,  _ shit,  _ I don’t know!” Another wave slammed into him, and Jaskier had to grit his teeth as sheer frustration drove tears to his eyes. He felt so empty it hurt, he needed something inside him, something to take him deep and rough and fill up that awful need. He needed cock. 

Jaskier looked desperately at Geralt. “ _ Geralt.” _

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I need—  _ Geralt please,  _ I  _ need  _ you to fuck me.”

To his credit, the Witcher only hesitated for long enough to curse every god ever imagined, before moving into action. With the aggression of a man exceedingly pissed off, Geralt started to undo his belt. 

“Fucking sex magic,” he snarled, as he toed off his boots. “Why does it have to be fucking sex magic.”

Jaskier wasn’t able to get a good look at what lay between the half clothed Witcher’s legs as he stepped up to him, not through the fog of desperate need that was strangling every thought. He didn’t care what it looked like though, didn’t care if it were 1 inch long or 10 feet, he needed it inside him  _ now.  _

Whatever process Geralt had interrupted by lopping the sex demon’s head off had clearly had some unintended effect on him, Jaskier ascertained, even as he wriggled his hips down the mattress, closer to Geralt’s cock. He hoped it wouldn’t kill him, though that thought was somewhat fleeting, as Geralt's cock started to sink inside him. 

Well, he wasn’t an inch, that was for sure.

Jaskier cried out as Geralt’s  _ massive  _ cock split him open even wider than the incubus’ had. It felt like an entire fist inside him, he’d never taken anything like it. If he hadn’t been hopped up on sex demon magic, Jaskier probably wouldn’t have been able to come close to fitting the monstrosity inside him. As it was, the stretch was so euphoric, so all encompassing, that Jaskier’s entire mind wiped blank. 

“You still with me, bard?” 

Geralt’s somewhat concerned tone cut through the fog, and Jaskier blinked dumbly, coming out of the stupour.

“Holy fucking shit,” he croaked. “How long have you been hiding this monster from me?”

Geralt scowled. “Your gratitude for my sacrifice is palpable.”

“Hardly a sacrifice, we both know you’ve been thinking about my ass since—“

Geralt snapped his hips, brutally hard, burying himself to the hilt and splitting Jaskier in half.

“ _ Holy fucking—“ _

_ Again,  _ his hips snapped, and again. Jaskier was no longer capable of protest, or any kind of speech at all. All that fell from his mouth was pathetic, needy, erotic moans and wordless demands for more. 

A Witcher’s stamina was legendary, and Geralt was no exception. He could maintain a pace and brutality with each of his thrusts that was beyond most men. It seemed he could maintain it endlessly, even speeding up, as though he could torture Jaskier forever.

Jaskier’s wrists and ankles were rubbed raw from his jerking and struggling, but he could hardly feel it. His entire world narrowed to the beautiful cock driving him to utter oblivion.

It went on for hours. Jaskier came, and came again, but no matter how many orgasms Geralt’s punishing thrusts drove him to, the insatiable need seemed barely to abate. Geralt came inside him, each orgasm a flood of the Witcher’s seed that filled him deep, slicking the Witcher’s way further. He never seemed to flag, though. It was as though he could exert an iron will over his own cock and keep it hard and interested no matter how long it was used. 

At one point Geralt untied him, and made him sit astride his lap so that Geralt might fuck up into him. The new depth was so intense that Jaskier was sure he could feel it in his stomach. When he sucked his breath in deep, he was sure he could see the outline of Geralt’s cock inside him.

It was Jaskier who pushed off his lap and turned over onto all fours, presenting his ass to be mounted. Geralt could take him faster this way, using his hips as leverage, and he did not waste the advantage. There was so much of Geralt’s come inside him now, Jaskier could feel it sloshing with every thrust. Still, he slammed himself back onto the Witcher’s cock, relishing the way his body was jerked about in the Witcher’s magnificently strong grip. 

He couldn’t deny he hadn’t thought about this, hadn’t wanted it, but Jaskier never thought the fantasy would come to fruition. At least not like this. 

“Shit Geralt,” he moaned. “Oh my god, fuck me.”

Geralt’s chest rumbled against Jaskiers back. “I have you,” he said. 

Jaskier never would have expected another half so tender from the stoic Witcher. It made his cock throb, and something in his chest warmed.

Eventually, when even Geralt had reached the very brink of his limits, a final orgasm washed over the thoroughly devastated Jaskier, and seemed to carry the last vestiges of his desperate lust away with it. He slumped, so grateful he could have wept, onto the sweaty, sticky sheets. Geralt, showing a rare moment of weakness, collapsed beside him. 

The sun had set, they must have been at it all day and well into the night. Jaskier’s body, wrecked and aching and sore, certainly felt like they had. 

“Well,” Jaskier panted, “I suppose I should say thank you.”

Geralt humphed. 

“For, uh, literally fucking the life back into me.”

“You wouldn’t have died,” Geralt scowled. “You would’ve been transformed.”

Jaskier blinked. The implication set in. 

“Are we definitely sure we’ve avoided that?” He squeaked.

“Reasonably.”

“Right. Well, I suppose that’s that then.” 

Geralt hummed in agreeance. 

“Deal with it tomorrow. Sleep now.”

“Should be do something about the dead demon currently—“

Geralt shut him up by dropping his large hand onto Jaskiers head, shoving it down into the pillows and covering his mouth. 

“Sleep. Deal later.”

Jaskier supposed he couldn’t argue with that, and snuggled up against Geralt’s side, blaming the Witcher’s unnatural warmth and the cold room when Geralt raised an eyebrow. 

Jaskier couldn’t deny he was touched when Geralt lifted his arm and tucked Jaskier into his side. 


End file.
